Note: Always click on the link in your email to read my stories. You may even get more details than in the story in your Inbox. After I publish, for some reason, I can proof-read better.
I need to scan the pics that were sent to us after the fact by Someone’s half-brother, G, about this incident but I am going to skip that for now. They would interfere with my telling of the story–the whole story–if my readers just skipped to the “end.”
(For readers just joining, “Someone” is my significant other, who would prefer to remain nameless because he is kinda embarrassed that he has an early-onset brain disease.)*
Years ago, when those little bags full of tiny greeting card glitter inserts came out, in the shape of hearts or snowmen, pumpkins or shamrocks, G’s wife was obsessed with them. Every greeting card, letter, holiday card, even presents that she sent to anyone had a generous handful of them enclosed.
At first, it was a pretty, occassional inclusion, we thought. But as time went on and they became more problematic than pretty. When we’d open a letter, a package, a set of printed photos, they would fall out all over the floor, into the dogs’ fur, our clothes, get into the carpet, in the tile cracks and more. We’d have to clean them up and instead of enjoying her letter, we’d spend each time cleaning up “her” mess. The more this happened, the more frustrated we became.
I couldn’t imagine how much this was costing G’s wife! Each package was about $5 in the card section of the store and she was doing this often. I wrote to her and asked her to please keep those lovely surprises for other people, but she would not listen. We continued to be bombarded by more and more designer glitter.
One Thanksgiving, before Someone was sick, about twenty of us were all at a relative’s home and after dinner, the men were sitting around talking in the den. Grandma (Gma) nearing 90 and I just happened to be there, too, babysitting some of the younger cousins while others were clearing the table for dessert.
“Are you getting that glitter (c**p) in your cards and letters from G’s wife?” Someone asked the table. “Ugh.” said one. “OMG,”said another. “It is the worst, ” said Gma. “We’ve asked her to stop it but she thinks it’s funny,” said one of the other wives walking by. The wheels began turning in Someone’s brain that very night. It had to stop.
We drove home and Someone began planning and brainstorming about how to get the message across to G and his wife that the entire family despised her glitter “surprises.” It was no longer pretty or cute but kind of naughty-not-nice, especially after people asked repeatedly for the behaviour to stop.)
Someone began assembling parts for his masterpiece of masterpieces. Whenever he did something, he always did it to succeed and to be the best that he could. (To this day, when ever we want to laugh or even bring up glitter, we laugh for a very long time.)
The wheels were turning. He bought several of those beginner magic cans of peanuts with the coiled snake in it (he wanted the “snakes”; five POUNDS of fine, multi-color glitter; a bunch of other parts that would assemble into the prettiest Christmas present that G and his wife could not resist opening and mailed it mixed in with their regular presents. I can’t remember exactly how it was assembled but it was complex and ingenious and totally harmless.
On Christmas morning, we got up early and just sat at home drinking hot cocoa and playing with the dogs and waited for the phone to ring. We weren’t sure if it was going to work or if sending it through the mail would upset the glitter launcher. The suspense was a nail-biter. Then about 11 AM, the call came. G and his wife weren’t mad but they were certainly shocked. It was so unexpected that they were belly laughing with us, too–but I could tell that G’s wife wasn’t totally thrilled especially about the aftermath.
They told us what happened. The pics they sent were of the rug and the cats and their hair, sofa… I remember hearing that it was even inside their socks!.
Sitting on their shag carpeting, G opened that Christmas present–with his two long-haired cats right by his side–and his wife on the chair right next to him (with very long, curly hair). When G pulled open the top of the box, pounds and pounds of fine glitter went up in the air and came down ALL over the room! It was in their hair, in the cats’ fur (not in their eyes and they did not inhale it–it was clear that they had ducked and the glitter was just down their backs–then they happily rolled in it so it was then all over their tummies), deeply embedded (for a long time) in the shag carpeting, in their clothes, furniture, more. It was one of THE best brother-to-brother gags I have ever seen and Someone was the mastermind behind it all.
Needless to say, we never once got another card with the little glitter snowflakes or hearts or whatever in them again. Neither did anyone else in the entire family! (They all thanked Someone once the story and pics got around the family.) I think the message was received more than loud and clear with no harm done.
We still continued to vacation all together and visit and talk regularly–until Someone got sick. Gma, Someone’s biggest fan, passed away at 95, just before Someone’s official diagnosis.
As for the rest of the family, all but our first “Someone is sick” call, all calls now go unanswered; my email requests for them to just send a card to keep in touch–to spend time with each other before there are regrets–now fall on deaf ears (not uncommon in these situations).
There will never be another gag like that. Someone ended on a high note–which will keep us still belly laughing for years to come!
Make lots of good memories while you can. They will carry you far!
Sending love and hugs from the Herd and their people!
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